sarah jio

I just finished my eighth novel and shipped it off to my agent and editor at Random House (let the pacing of the floors and the nail-biting begin!). At its core, this new book is a love story. There’s plenty of mystery and drama in it, of course, but, the theme is definitely love. Whenever I set out to write a new novel, I always start with a deep-rooted question. For this book, it was “how far would you go for someone you loved?” For my heroine, that means major and life-altering things. Scary things. While I was writing the novel, I thought a lot about my own life, and, especially, the love in my life. I thought about my past and present, and my future, too. But I found myself incredibly curious to read up on what some notable people have had to say on topics of love. What were their aha moments? What were their truths? What had they learned after failed marriages or first dates or heartbreaks or complete and utter adoration of another? Here are my favorites, with commentary: 1. So Your Heart Broke Once. (Sorry, Honey.) Be Brave and Risk It All Again. “As read more

Hello from a wine bar in Napa Valley. I’m sipping a glass of pinot noir and writing, with a heavy, heavy heart. Last week, my friend Wyatt Neumann died. It was sudden. He was riding his motorcycle and suffered a brain aneurysm. Tragic and horrific and unbelievable. He’d texted me five days prior to say hi and ask how I was. “Honestly, I’m having a bad week,” I replied. I was. My dog threw up on the new rug in the living room. A million things were going wrong. I lost my keys. I was stressing about the draft of my new novel. Big things in the moment. Minuscule things, in the scheme of life. “I’m having a bad week too,” he typed, telling me about how all sorts of stuff had been bumming him out. We laughed from opposite sides of the country, me in Seattle, he in New York City, about Mercury being in retrograde (neither of us believing in astrology). He told me he was going to be in L.A. the following week. Maybe, he suggested, if I was in town, which I am often, we could grab lunch or a drink. “I’d love to,” I said, knowing read more

One of my friends is dating a great guy. But something he told her recently gave me pause. He said he’s not sure if he’s in it for forever, with her or with anyone (in fact, he’s not sure if he believes in it). Instead, he explained that he's more focused on the idea of having five, maybe 10, great years together. The rest? Well, according to him, that would just be a bonus. I asked my friend if she was disturbed by this, and she said, “Not at all. I think it’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard." I was fascinated by her response. It was both strong and honest, because, frankly, I found her boyfriend’s sentiments a bit scary. I mean, what if she gives him 10 beautiful years of her life, and when the 11th rolls around, he just gives up and moves on? What if he sees relationships with expiration dates? This has all made me think of that Christina Perri song that I love called “the words”—especially that line about love being a “ghost you can’t control.” So true, right? Let’s face it: There are no guarantees in love. None at all. read more

Since I’ve been writing this column for Glamour, I’ve been getting so many lovely messages from readers. I love hearing from you all—the stories of love lost and found, of heartbreak and healing—all of it. Darlings, I’ve lived it all, and I love hearing from others who have too. So I’ve decided to start sharing reader questions from time to time. Lori in Los Angeles asked me the below thought-provoking question. She wrote: “I’ve been dating someone who is 100-percent great. We don’t live together but spend almost all of our time together after work and on weekends, mostly at his house, because he lives in a nicer place and it’s closer to his work, and since his job is more stressful than mind, I figured that was OK. I love spending time with him, but I’ve started to feel like I’m neglecting myself a bit. I haven’t seen my friends in a while, my apartment is collecting dust, and I’m constantly driving across town to my job, and sitting in traffic, which I hate. I’m conflicted because I love both him and our time together, but I feel a little depleted, like I’m somehow losing myself (my time, my read more

Shortly after my marriage fell apart and in those bleak days after my husband had packed up his belongings and moved to a new house, Natalie, one of my best friends, insisted that I sign up for Match.com. “You have to get out there,” she said. “It’ll be fun!” Honestly, “fun” was the last thing on my mind. I was hurting and lost. My heart, smashed in so many places, wasn’t ready for new love, let alone fun (ironic, for a novelist who writes about love). But somehow, I let Natalie convince me (over a few glasses of wine) to create an online profile. Match.com, I thought. Really? Was I really going to do this? (It helped to know that some people I admire had taken the plunge, too, like one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, who wrote about her year on Match.com here.) Cautiously, I chose a few photos and wrote some stupid one-line description, which (don’t laugh), I believe went something like this: “Hi, I’m Sarah. I’m a writer in Seattle. Looking for the real and the epic.” (Yeah, I know. A little sub-par, given that I actually write for a living.) But that’s how my online read more

Say what you will about Russia. It’s cold. The men might drink too much vodka. The leaders have a history of questionable practices. But the women? After a recent trip to Moscow, I came to realize that Russian women have, hands down, the most evolved perspective on love. This year, my friend Claire and I found ourselves, two divorced (Claire, almost-divorced), moderately disillusioned (jaded?) 36-year-old women, in Moscow—on Valentine’s Day. After one of my novels hit the best-seller list unexpectedly in Russia, I’d been invited by my publisher to go on a week-long book tour in the dead of winter. I asked Claire, my most adventurous girlfriend, to tag along. We each bought enormous down jackets, packed our warmest sweaters, and embarked on an adventure across the world. On the plane to Moscow, the flight attendant refilled our wine glasses, I stared out the dark airplane window and thought about my divorce, my beleaguered heart, and the endless dating hamster wheel. Though I had recently begun seeing someone exclusively, I still had fears, and even more questions. “Maybe Russian women have it all figured out?” I asked Claire, remembering one of my friends in Seattle, a Siberian-born Russian with extremely read more

Love should be simple, right? After all, aren't we talking about an easy equation of one plus one equals two? Yes, and yet, relationships disintegrate every day; more than half of all marriages fail (mine did). The thing is, love is complicated. I've come to believe that it’s less of an easy equation and more of an algorithm, one that might even stump a mind like Stephen Hawking. That’s what I’m thinking a lot about these days, anyway. And so I ask a lot of my friends, married and not, what makes their relationships work; strangers too. The other day I asked a woman in her seventies in line at Starbucks the same question. She was holding her husband’s hand tenderly and teared up when she gave me her response: “Humor, dear,” she said. “He makes me laugh every day.” Of course, I’m sure their marriage has lasted for more reasons than humor. Their algorithm might include elements like adoration, care, and mutual respect. Perhaps she loves how he takes care of her. Perhaps he loves how she sews his blazer when there’s a tear in the cuff. Love works or doesn't for many reasons. But when I’ve questioned friends read more

I think a lot about love stories. This is partially work-related (I write novels that are anchored in love). But I’ve also (always) been interested in what makes love last, what makes people passionate about each other, what renders one connection more intense than another, and a thousand and two other iterations on this subject. I suppose, after my divorce, these questions became more important to me than ever. After all, when love fails you, you start to wonder if that means it will happen all over again. Will it? When trust is broken--when you get your heart smashed--can you ever trust another, or even yourself? For a long time, my answer to these questions was: “I don’t know.” Divorce is not common in my family. Though I have had relatives who have parted ways with their spouses, I’m from a clan of (generally) happily married people. Exhibit A: My parents have been married (blissfully) for almost 40 years. They have the kind of marriage most people dream of. They kiss hello and goodbye, do special things for each other, still laugh at each other’s jokes, respect one another, and, most importantly, look at each other with love in read more

Lately, there's been a lot of airplay thrown at the concept of letting it go. Seriously, “let it go” could be the mantra of 2014 (thank you, Disney). Bad boyfriend? Goodbye! Flaky friend? Cut her loose! Disappointing family member? Sayonara! These days, human relationships feel very black and white. You’re either in or you’re out. If someone disappoints you, that’s it. I get it, I do. It hurts to be hurt or let down, and what better revenge than to just sever the tie? And in moments of my own pain and intense sadness, I’ve clung to “let it go” thinking. It’s a mantra that’s easy to get behind. It feels decisive. It feels powerful. But here's my question: Is "letting it go" really wise, right, or even healthy? I don’t think so. Yes, the idea of giving someone or something the ax can be necessary in extreme situations. It can also feel cathartic, especially when that person has hurt you or behaved badly or not lived up to your expectations. Cutting ties can feel powerful and strong. It can feel intentional and IN CONTROL. I know, because I’ve done it. And the tough gal inside of me would probably still read more

When I was first single, I railed against the very idea of Tinder. After all, the app has quite the reputation. However, more and more of my girlfriends convinced me to try it. In fact, I even have a friend who met her fiance by swiping right, so I finally came around, cautiously. My Tinder experience has been short-lived, sometimes weird, or laughable (note the photo above...big sigh), but also fun (I let my married girlfriends take my phone and swipe at will on my behalf, which they love). Tinder has almost become a cultural phenomenon in dating (and if you want a good laugh, Tinder Nightmares is a really hilarious Instagram feed to follow). After a bit of swiping around, I've come to believe that there are certain types of men you'll find on this app. Darlings, I present to you the Men of Tinder: The Fish Guy: It never ceases to amaze me how many men upload photos of themselves on boats holding enormous fish that they have (presumably) caught. Is this a macho thing? An evolutionary caveman thing, as in "look at this fish I caught, which I will filet and feed you for dinner?" I don't read more

I guess you could say that I’m a romantic. I realize that this is kind of like saying the sky is blue. Ahem, here I am writing this column about love for Glamour. You’re onto me, I know. So let me confess further: I was that kid in the '80s who got weepy when watching An American Tail, then stared up at the sky through my bedroom window with big eyes while humming “somewhere out there." (I'm sure my parents must have secretly had a good laugh over this). I kept a diary, which my little brother stole and read with his friends in the sixth grade. I carved my name “Sarah + NAME OF BOY” on the side of trees, or with sticks on sandy beaches. I always thought he was out there, that love was out there. (Whoever he or that was.) It’s hard to be idealistic like that anymore after you’ve had a year like mine, when your life has been turned upside down, and your heart handed to you on a plate (fresh ground pepper?). After all that, you don’t operate as you normally would. You stall. You sputter. Your engine fails. Heck, it needs a read more

These days, I find myself thinking a lot about what my favorite strong women would do in all of life’s situations, especially in the sometimes heart-wrenching areas of dating and love. Some of these women are living, some are not. But if I got one or all of them in a room, poured some wine, and asked each for wisdom when it comes to happiness and love, I like to think that these are the things they’d say. (Yeah, I totally made all of this up, but I had fun doing it!) Love advice from the greats, as imagined by moi: Joni Mitchell: “Go to the bar, have a glass of wine. Sit there for a while. Scribble his face on a napkin. Give him a weird mustache. Put some money in the jukebox, baby, and then have another drink. You’ll be fine by morning." Oprah: “Here’s what I know for sure: You are the only person who can truly make you happy. No man can do that." Lucille Ball: “Laugh at it all, darling. Life is funny as hell.” Nora Ephron: “Men die before women. They divorce you and ask you to pay them alimony. All of them snore. read more

I had dinner with a friend the other night, and she told me the big epiphany she had in her twenties (which, apparently I missed when I was busy having babies). We came to this subject over tacos, which is where all of the best discussions begin, and her words have been haunting me ever since. That night, I explained to her that I have a dating quirk that has become pretty apparent to me over this last year. First, some backstory on me: Work is very important to me in my life. I’ve spent years (decades) building my career, and I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been passionate about what I do. I’m fortunate that way, I know—to be among the few who knew what they wanted to do from a young age (I skipped the whole astronaut thing and was entirely focused on writing from the moment I could write my name). And then I grew up and actually got to make a career of it, for real. I’m grateful for my career every day. In fact, I always say that I wake up every morning excited about three things: my kids, my coffee, and my read more

Online dating is such a very weird thing. When I was newly single, one of my best friends insisted that I sign up for an account on Match.com. I gave in, but in these past months, I've been very cautious about it and other sites. True, I've met a few lovely people that way (some lovelier than others). But, as any woman with a pulse can attest to, I've also been flooded with the strangest messages from men. (Remind me to tell you about the 73-year-old who invited me to fly to Paris on his private jet.) There's this phenomenon in online dating: the one-line message. Know what I'm talking about? I'm not sure if it's because guys think it's cool to just fire something off without putting any thought to it, or that they're sending out 500 of these messages a night and hoping that it improves their success rate? Or maybe it's just that they're downright lazy. I don't know. Whatever the reason, these messages make me roll my eyes (and laugh). For your reading pleasure, I just scanned through my messages and pulled out the most recent doozies. The responses (or nonresponses) I would have sent (but read more

Happy New Year, beauties. I have a feeling about 2015: I think it's going to rock. I feel this in my bones. Resolutions? I'm not really making them this year, but I am focusing on truth. And, as such, here are the truths I'm taking with me into this new year. 1. Love Is a Slow Stroll, Not a Sprint. I’ve been single for more than a year—well, going on a year and half now, if we’re splitting hairs. I’ve had some moments this past year, yes. I’ve spent time with many, many wonderful people and encountered a few not-so-great people too (no biggie—it all just makes that future memoir that much more interesting, right?). I’ve had my heart pinged and prodded, and trampled, and mended and nurtured. I’ve gone on whirlwind dating tears and also spent plenty of Saturday nights alone. I’ve experienced the full range. And here I am. I used to think that finding love this time around would be an easy thing. Easy, maybe, if I were willing to settle. I’m not. And if I’ve learned anything about love in the last year, it’s that this is a journey that can’t be rushed. I’m a runner, read more

Remember that scene from The Notebook? You know, the one where Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling adorably frolic in the waves and then lock lips so passionately that love seems to leap off the screen? “Say I'm a bird! Say it! Say it now!” "You're a bird.” "Now say you're a bird too.” "If you're a bird, I'm a bird.” To many, it's one of the most beloved and memorable romantic moments in film in the last 20 years, and it was dreamed up by one of the world’s most prominent writers of romantic novels turned movies: Nicholas Sparks. Sparks has penned dozens of novels, many of which have turned into major movies, and all of which deal with topics of romance and love. Sure, there’s tragedy and heartbreak in these stories, but in the end, love always seems to win. It’s a formula that people love. I love it too, and although not all of my novels end happily, most of the time, they leave your heart feeling warm. That’s what Nicholas Sparks does so well. He has a way of making even the jaded believe in love again, even if it’s just for 23 chapters, or for two read more

Some of my girlfriends and I have decided that we’re done listening to sad music. No, we’re done listening to sad music that reminds us of our exes, or the past, or anything else that feels depressing. Because life is too short to be mopey all the time. We’re sick of being mopey. Time of death on mopey: Today at 12:34 p.m. So, I’m breaking up with Bon Iver for awhile. And the Ryan Adams Heartbreaker album? Nope, not evening listening to it. Same goes for all of my other go-tos: London Grammar (too moody), Joshua Radin (bless his handsome soul). The thing is, music can really mess with your emotions—in good ways and bad. I’ll always remember a guy friend of mine telling me about a painful breakup with the only woman he ever loved. This man was so in love with this woman that he could recount the way she walked; the precise way she put one foot in front of the other. So, when she unexpectedly broke up with him six years ago, he found himself sitting around his house listening to The Cure and Morissey constantly. After this three-month pity party, he finally willed himself to read more

I recently parted ways with someone I’d spent a lot of time with these past months. The ending was sudden. We crashed and burned so quickly, that even though I was conscious of hitting the eject button and deploying my parachute, the fall was harder than I imagined it would ever be, and it took me longer than I expected to climb out of the rubble. And, rubble it was. Memories like mismatched puzzle pieces lay all around me, shredded and scorched. Although I knew that all these broken pieces might never have turned into a whole, isolated as snapshots, they were beautiful and true. As such, I found myself like a person in a burning building who stalls longer than they should, trying to salvage things from room to room, burning her hands in the process. I have a beautiful goddaughter named Aria (pictured above), and though I'd love to tell her someday that love is an easy, perfect equation of 1 + 1 = 2, when she tells me about her own heartbreak, I'll speak to her honestly. The truth is, sometimes love can be a crazy game. A battlefield, really (thank you, Ms. Pat Benatar, for that read more

Confession: I'm the sort of person who begins listening to Christmas music on November 1. I realize that this revelation may raise an eyebrow or two. I mean, seriously, you may want to stop reading this column now that you know this about me (ha). After all, everyone has delicate opinions about when one should begin listening to "Jingle Bells." But, please, keep reading. I have more to say. Here's the thing: The holidays have always been my favorite time of the year. Every year, my mom made Christmas so special, and that found its way into my DNA, somehow. My entire life, I could never understand how certain people would groan about the holidays, or how anyone could be sad this time of the year. Be merry, ya'll! C'mon! That used to be me. I'm not listening to Christmas music as I type this. I'm listening to the moody, heartfelt Ixora album by Copeland (which you should check out—it's so good), and I'm acutely aware that things are different this year, different than they've ever been in my life. Different isn't bad—it's just different. Take the tree, for example. This year, it was a solo job. My kids read more

A new year is coming, and this morning I had coffee with a friend in my newly updated living room (hello, new steel gray paint and chairs—out with the old!) and we reminisced about the past over espresso and rum cake (left over from the Caribbean). Our conversation made me think of something my friend Natalie told me the other day. A pal since college, Natalie is one of the women in my life who has kept me sane in those dark months of last year. She'd check on me almost every day, drag me out of my house for dinner or drinks, and make sure I was keeping my eyes on the horizon and not looking back. This awesome woman has walked with me through the aftermath of bad dates, and good ones. I've laughed with her, cried with her, and on one epic night, she held my hand as I screamed a man's name into the chilly air on a street in Seattle. (Let me tell you, it felt good to scream.) Recently, she was telling me about a friend of hers who had found love in an unexpected place, with a man she normally might not have read more